


One Is the Loneliest

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 16:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Mary’s houseguests make her nuts.<br/>Disclaimer:  I own absolutely nothing of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Is the Loneliest

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: In Plain Sight, Mary (pairing or gen), There was a time when she lived alone.

Mary stalked through the doors, a thunderous scowl on her face. She slammed her files on the desk and threw herself into her chair so hard, it rolled all the way to the wall, smacking into it. 

“Bad morning?” Marshall asked, glancing over the top of his computer monitor at her. 

She rolled her eyes, showing teeth. “That’s the understatement of all understatements.” 

Marshall twirled a pencil between his fingers. “Let me guess – Jinx was up at the crack of midnight with her bottle, Brandi was on the telephone with Chuck all night, and you had to deal with Jinx’s crying jags and Brandi’s pouting?” 

Mary didn’t bother with an actual answer, letting out a grunt that could’ve been an agreement. 

Marshall got to his feet, heading to the coffee pot. He poured a cup for Mary and set it on her desk, an offering to the tumultuous goddess of Albuquerque WITSEC. “Here you go,” he said. 

She eyed the cup, then glared up at Marshall. “This isn’t some attempt to appease me, is it?”

Shrugging, Marshall went back to his chair, sitting down. “Is it possible it will work, and you won’t attack the next person who comes through that door like a ravening lioness, taking down her prey?”

Mary snorted picking up the cup and taking a sip. “Maybe. If you throw in donuts as soon as we leave the office.” 

“Done.” 

“Mary, Marshall,” Stan sang out as he came through the door. “My two favorite marshals.”

They exchanged a look. “What sort of horrible person do we have to babysit now, Stan?” Marshall asked. 

“Who said you did?” Stan hesitated next to Marshall’s desk. “Mary?”

“Had a bad night. Jinx and Brandi doubleplay,” Marshall said.

Mary buried her face in her coffee cup. 

“Ouch.” Stan folded his arms and leaned his hip on Marshall’s desk. “So, she’s in a bad mood?”

Marshall wagged his hand from side to side, curling his mouth in a grimace. “I gave her coffee and promised her donuts. She might make it out of the office doors without killing anyone. After that, I make no promises.” 

“Good man. If she’s out on the streets, at least she’s harming innocent bystanders, not people we know personally.”

“I hear you talking, you know,” Mary said dryly. 

Stan offered a saccharine smile. “Mary! How nice to see you today. I hear from Marshall your night was less than stellar.” 

Mary sighed, setting down her cup. “You know, I used to live alone. Then I bought a house, and Jinx slipped in through the cracks, and now Brandi’s here hiding out or whatever she’s doing from Chuck, and all I really want is some peace and quiet. And then I come to work.” She eyed Stan and Marshall. “And the people I expect to respect me talk about me within earshot.” 

“At least we’re not doing it behind your back,” Stan reminded her. 

She snorted, pushing to her feet. “Marshall. Donuts. On the double.” 

Marshall shrugged at Stan. “At your beck and call, milady.” 

“I’m not a beck and call girl,” Mary growled. 

“Not until Jinx and Brandi start calling.” Marshall grinned when Mary flashed a glower. “Remember, Mary, one _is_ the loneliest – ow!” Rubbing his shoulder, he asked, “Why’d you hit me?”

“Because, goofball, it’s not cold enough around here for a one dog night, let alone three.” And Mary preceded him out of the office, like always. “Donuts, Marshall! Now!”


End file.
